It’s been three weeks since my second sacroiliac injection. After the first procedure my non-CRPS pain was relieved for approximately 10 days. Not long, but I knew that it may not last going into it and yet it was worth it. Living with chronic pain is the pits and even if temporary, any relief feels like a miracle. Also, I admit that I haven’t taken it easy after either injection, much like when I test drive a potential new car. Let’s see what this puppy can do, so I red-line it and go off-road…figuratively and literally. You see, we took a road trip to Colorado and I went HARD.
We packed up the station wagon and left on Thursday, July 7. We spent that night in Lincoln, Nebraska. On Friday we continued our journey and that afternoon we made it to Colorado and were greeted by a “Resist Fascism!” billboard which energized me. I struggled most nights to get much sleep because of my slipped disc and leg cramps from being cooped up for so long during the drive, but a family member we stayed with used homeopathic light therapy on my leg that helped bring some relief which, like I said before, is a small miracle.
The next day we hit up the Denver Museum of Nature and Science and stayed cool in the AC since it was 99 degrees outside. Afterward, my insatiable prehistoric bird hunger needed more nourishment so we headed to Dinosaur Ridge to view some ancient footprints left behind by the behemoths. The ridge is closed to traffic so we had to hoof it about a mile uphill. That sucked, especially for the 12-year-old and my wife who had to hear her complaining since I left them in my dust as I burned up that 8% grade slope with child-like enthusiasm as my fuel. The kid minimized the fussing when we promised her ice cream upon our return to the visitor center and fortunately we made it back before the shop closed. Quickly we used the restroom and wouldn’t you know it, by the time we finished the ice cream man closed up shop at 4:47 pm. I asked if he could help, but he flatly said “No, we closed at 5.” Dumbfounded and exhausted, I looked at my watch as if it were broken, put my ear to it, scratched my chin with my right middle digit, then walked away and promised the kid ice cream back at our base in Fort Collins where we eventually delivered, +3 more future visits. I’ve been told that you gotta splurge on vacation.
We didn’t plan on it, but during this trip we did something taxing one day and then low-key the next. It just happened that way which was great, because with chronic pain you never know how much is left in the tank. I’ve been pushing myself hard for the past year because I want to live and experience before I no longer can. I know it’s coming, so YOLO! It really is a fine line of pushing it and finding the right amount of time to rest or you are in a world of hurt and then you contemplate calling your doctors to have them fill a script for opioids and it is a slippery slope from there.
On Monday we took a ride through Rocky Mountain National Park where we saw some awesome scenery and badass nature. Atop Trail Ridge Road we parked our vehicle near the Alpine Visitor Center and we began our ascent of 230 stairs to the peak at 12,005 feet. Going up those steps was hell. I was out of breath in no time. Even the kid was having trouble and she’s three decades younger. I saw some folks bail halfway up, but we I was goddamned determined. Our reward for making it to the top was a breathtaking view of the top of the world and a pack of nine elk. Worth it. On the way down I observed the faces of people we passed heading in the opposite direction and I began to feel better about myself. There was an elderly man heading up with his family that looked fatigued. Out of nowhere and surprising myself, I blurted out “You got this! They don’t call it Huffers Hill for nothing, amirite? There’s even elk up there.” I swear I saw a spark in his eye that ignited a fire in his soul and even his party lit up by those words of encouragement. “Oh, the elk are there!?!” I heard one of them say and they began to pick up the pace. I was feeling good about myself and my body was holding together and it needed to because things were about to get real in a couple more days.
The next day we took it easy by visiting some old mining ghost towns. Correction, it should’ve been easy, but I, as the navigator, told our pilot the wrong directions when we were leaving the second town and our descent down the side of a mountain was terri-FUCKING-fying. Please understand that I can no longer drive safely in even moderate traffic due to foot-drop and dead nerves in my right foot so I’ve relinquished all driving duties to my wife. She could pull off the Kessel Run in 12 seconds if you rounded up, that is with me as the copilot. As second in command I have taken it upon myself to offer unsolicited advice on how to drive properly as well as the best way to get to our destinations because my sense of direction is paramount, yet somehow I led us down a path less traveled that I figured was a shortcut. This path had no rails and was unpaved. You couldn’t see over the edge of the roadway because it just dropped into oblivion much like Rainbow Road without Lakitu there to rescue you. I began to wonder how many people fell to their deaths tumbling down rag doll-style. How long would it take to die? God, I’d want to die. Skip surviving that. That’d be like being thrown into a dryer…which actually happened to a family member’s cat during our visit. Fig the feline survived three minutes in a running dryer. Jesus. I need to get an update on the cat when I’m done here, but it did survive and so did we.
The day had come. Wednesday. It was time for our whitewater rafting adventure. BIG TIME STUFF. I feared this day. My anxiety was piquing. I worst-case scenario everything and I imagined getting bucked from the raft and landing square on my back on top of a boulder without anyone noticing I’m gone. Unable to move in the blistering heat of the sun, a vulture lands on my chest and begins eating my eyeballs and nose. I survive, but now I’m unable to walk, unable to taste, can’t see, sunburned lobster red and I still have all the pain I started with and then-some. Just kidding, I honestly only feared my injection of steroids would wear-off and my inflammation that causes my pain in my sacroiliac joint would return due to the jostling of my body as we went down Class IV rapids. Or perhaps all the paddling would tear away the leads of my DRG stimulator from my spine and my CRPS pain would max out and I’d have to schedule more surgery. You know, real-life fear, but again, YOLO!
After being briefed for half an hour that had our kid’s head spinning, we boarded a bus with five rafts in tow. We departed into the mountains along the Poudre River at breakneck speeds with death-defying hairpin turns and yet I was unfazed. Cheating death is my morning commute. I no longer fear death, I fear more pain.
We arrived at the boat launch and exited the bus and were assigned a guide and boat. I informed the guide that I’m disabled and he said “like fibromyalgia or something?” And I said “yes, something like that.” He told the kid and I to grab the oars as my wife, two other women and our guide lugged the raft down to the water. As we grabbed the oars I noticed our kid looked very concerned. Once we boarded and departed from the shore my wife looked at the kid and said, “isn’t this exciting?” And she replied tersely “leave me alone. You’re embarrassing me.” This was it, the distraction I needed to calm down. I gave her the ‘it’s gonna be ok nod’ and I think I even said it aloud, but she just looked away.
The adventure got real, real fast. We began with some lower class rapids and after we made it to calmer waters I looked back and saw a grin creeping on the kid’s face. More rapids, more happiness (I think?) on her face. Then we hit some Class IV rapids and witnessed a boat carrying only three employees hit a rock, flip upside down and they lost all of their paddles. Good GAWD. They’re the experts. That’s not supposed to happen. Our boat helped gather their paddles and eventually returned them. I could feel my anxiety returning and see it in my kid. We needed a new distraction and then one of our boat companions spotted a bighorn sheep. Whew. A little later we arrived at a swimming hole and the kid was one of the first to jump into the river. She was so pumped that she nearly jumped onto a kayaker. She was having real fun…with her parents. I decided to try jumping in and, holy fuck, the water was like ice and I started drifting downriver and no one really noticed that I was struggling to make it back. Panic almost set in, but I found some strength and made it back safely. I had my fill at the hole, but the kid jumped in two more times.
After four hours riding the rapids our trip ended without any issues including pain-related. We returned to the bus and were taxied back to the shop where we viewed pictures of our day and, wouldn’t you know it, there was an image of our child with a genuine smile that wasn’t coaxed so we bought it. The day was done. Originally I had hoped we could see The Black Keys at Red Rocks that night, but we were all way too exhausted.
Inside the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya
The next day we rested and visited the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya. My head was pounding all morning on the way to our destination. Ever since my accident I get brain-splitting headaches. I can’t predict when they’ll begin or when they’ll end. It just happens. I’m sure all the energy I exerted the day before added to my state of being. I really wanted to enjoy the Buddhist temple, but my brain was broken. I felt better after lunch and a couple of fountain Coca-Cola Classics. Later, after returning to base, the kid and I rented electric scooters. I downloaded the app, located two scooters about a mile from us, so we walked to retrieve them, unlocked one and then struggled to get the other one up and running. I had to keep my cool. I was getting somewhere with the kid and I didn’t want to lose it. I even kept the cursing quiet and to a minimum. Eventually all systems were go and the two of us cruised down a main drive in Fort Collins and through a traffic circle with zero difficulty or collisions with any other moving vehicles. That evening I almost messed it all up by crushing her at miniature golf, but redeemed myself by losing to her while go-karting which was really hard for me to just let happen, but I did, even though I could’ve blown her shit up with a blue shell I sat on.
Friday was our last full day in Colorado and we planned to take it easy, but my wife’s aunt offered to watch the kid so we could tour the New Belgium brewery. I couldn’t believe it…a date without the kid? We haven’t had a date since a Halloween party at the local VFW in 2017 when my wife went as the The Dude and I as Walter Sobchak. We gladly took her up on the offer.
The tour pays for itself in drinks. I was worried when the tour began if I’d be able to complete it because there is a lot of standing around which my back cannot tolerate. However, after my third sample I said to my wife “I gotta tell you, I don’t hurt so much because I’m kinda drunk.” She replied, “I keep telling you that you just need to be high all the time. I don’t know what your problem is.”
As the tour was wrapping up we watched the bottling process and my wife said it reminded her of Laverne & Shirley. I told her that her references are so obscure and old, unlike mine that are contemporary and hip which induced an eye-roll. At the end of the tour we went down a spiral slide that my wife was sure, psychologically, supposed to give you that boost and confidence that you fine to drive home and it worked on us, but first we had to purchase drinks exclusive to the brewery and other souvenirs we didn’t need, but since we exited through the gift shop we needed them.
The next morning we set course for home. We spent the night in Council Bluffs, Iowa and, I gotta say, it makes Ottawa look like Beverly Hills. Everyone smokes cigars and is required to have a Harley Davidson motorcycle or very loud gas-guzzling vehicle that makes your ears bleed. Also, wearing only a bikini and flip-flops when you may or may not be pregnant into the Walmart is completely appropriate (we needed dog food, because that’s right, our dog travels with us on vacation). I even witnessed a car being repossessed at that Walmart. What an adrenaline rush that was to watch.
We arrived home on Sunday very, very tired. We celebrated our safe travels with a Lou Malnati’s buttercrust pizza and watched Bill Burr’s special at Red Rocks as consolation for missing The Black Keys. Oh, and the injection is still holding up. I have a follow-up appointment later this week where I will discuss with my doctor if a third injection is needed. Until some other thing relating to pain happens to me, farewell.
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